These things happen. At least, now.
I’d been home all day. I was a little upset that I couldn't see my friends and that my work in my school's yearbook club was cut short. I thought, these things happen, or at least they do now. Quarantine loomed and I was handling it with apathy. I spent most of my days in my room, face buried in my pillow. I was itching for something to do.
I decided to clean my room.
First I found scraps of paper and sheets of homework that were at least a year old. There were clothes I completely forgot about. I found a trophy I didn't even remember receiving. I found notebooks filled with scribblings, drawings and rough drafts of stories. I found unused keychains and toys an old friend bought me. Digging even deeper, I found my grade 7 graduation photos. I found laminated photos of me as a toddler. The girl in that photo is sleeping soundly. She is completely unaware of the current global pandemic.
Pressing my face against nooks and crannies, I discovered new things about my room I never knew. As the hours stretched by, I ended up with a garbage bag bursting with trinkets and photos, ready to toss into the basement.
As my final task, I took down the framed photos of my younger self that stare at me as I sleep. Now my walls were bare.
It was my room, but it wasn't. Without the clutter, the familiar mess, it was just empty space. I felt tired. A little sad, even.
I think that’s what change feels like. It's imminent and inevitable. What I felt in my new-looking room reminded me of the way I’ve felt throughout this pandemic. I was lonely and confused. Everything was so new.
But, change is good. And one day, all our rooms will have to be cleaned.